Messrs. Editors:--As we have a general Indian war throughout Oregon, I wish to publish through your paper an account of our situation at the mouth of Rogue River. It was about the beginning of the month of October last, when we were first alarmed at the probability of the hostile Indians from the Upper Rogue River being driven down this way. Our citizens, aware of their exposed situation, and but poorly provided with arms or ammunition, prepared themselves for defense as well as they could by constructing some forts, and the Indian agent stationed a company of 20 or 25 volunteers at what is known as the "Big Bend" of Rogue River, for the purpose of cutting off communication between the upper Indians and those in this district.
    Subsequently, the Indians above being driven to the "Big Meadows," some 25 or 30 miles above "Big Bend," the danger of the Indians along the river joining the hostile bands became more imminent, and recent events would lead us to suppose that our worst fears in this respect are about being realized.
    On the 20th of January, Mr. Huntley, one of our citizens, came down from Big Bend for supplies and ammunition, and informed us of the closer approach of the hostile Indians. They had now got to the mouth of Illinois River, but 25 miles above the mouth of Rogue River. Messrs. Enoch Huntley and John Clevinger left again for Big Bend on the following day, and on the morning of the 23rd January were attacked and brutally murdered just as they were leaving their campground. An Indian by the name of Enos, and two other Indians, had also started for Big Bend on the morning of the 22nd, fell in with Huntley and Clevinger, and camped with them the night previous to the attack. One of the Indians was killed in the fray, but Enos and the other escaped, and brought information of the tragedy to the mouth of Rogue River. Enos shortly pretended to return to Big Bend, but has not been heard from since. Some of our citizens suspicioned him as a traitor at that time, but let him go.
    Sub-Agent McGuire set out on the 24th of January, arrived at Big Bend on the 25th and with a small party proceeded as far as Illinois River, but without finding any traces of the dead bodies. On returning to their station, they fell in with a band of Indians, had a slight skirmish and killed one. On arriving at the station (Big Bend) they found that the Indians had attacked the house, but had been repulsed by the small garrison. They had also attempted to fire the house. A number of balls went through the roof, and arrows stuck all round the house. No damage was done.
    Agent McGuire arrived here on the 28th and arrested an Indian by the name of Ben, said by some to be a Klickitat and partner of Enos, against whom, the agent says, sufficient evidence exists for his being taken and killed by whomsoever he may be found. He is a large man, his hair cut straight round his neck, nearly blind in one eye, has some arrow scars close to one eye, other scars about his person, and is known as one of Col. Fremont's guides in Oregon and California. Ben has been sent to Port Orford.
    A small party of soldiers from Port Orford have now accompanied back to Big Bend, the sub-agent, McGuire, who deserves much credit for his diligence and perseverance. There is of course is good deal of excitement here, and the people are again fortifying themselves; business all stopped.
    But for these untoward troubles, the mines would now pay exceedingly well. Miners, when allowed to work, make from eight to twelve ounces amalgam per day to the man, worth from four to give dollars per oz.
    A man by the name of Christian met with a serious accident by the bursting of a gun on the 14th ult., fracturing very badly his hand, which had to be amputated. This was performed by Drs. Holton and White. The patient is doing well.
    Yours,                GOLD BEACH.
Crescent City Herald, February 13, 1856, page 1


    VOLUNTEERS.--For some days past there has been quite an active demand in this city for volunteers to fill up the companies authorized to be raised by Governor Curry. We are told that eight or ten men enlisted with Capt. O'Neil from Althouse. Capt. J. M. Poland of Company K, 2nd Regiment O.M.V., before leaving, requested us to inform persons wishing to join his company to report to him at the camp, mouth of Rogue River, where the company was expected to be mustered into service, perhaps as early as the 22nd inst.
Crescent City Herald, February 20, 1856, page 2

Del Norte Record, Crescent City, June 17, 1893, page 1


To Major Reynolds
    Dear Sir
        This morning our few troops stationed near the Tututni rancherie about a mile above the mouth were attacked at daybreak this morning and are supposed to be all killed. Among the missing is the Indian agent Benj. Wright & Capt. John Poland.
    Those living on ranches or skirting Rogue River we know are killed & have no doubt all are. As soon as I heard at the mouth I immediately dispatched what disposable force I had at hand for the scene of action but they were met by an overwhelming force of Indians and driven back without being able to ascertain the particulars of the battle.
    I want you to send me immediately all the troops you can spare. The citizens here are fortifying themselves the best they can, expecting an hourly attack. And they are but few and poorly armed. You will please send a howitzer with the troops.
    There is no doubt but the coast Indians have joined the hostile band. It is impossible to particularize more particularly as my time is too much taken up in making arrangements to meet the enemy.
Microcopy of Records of the Oregon Superintendency of Indian Affairs 1848-1873, Reel 14; Letters Received, 1856, No. 92.


    The Rogue River Indians still continue their hostilities. The Big Bend station was recently attacked and some twenty whites killed. Crescent City is threatened with an attack. The citizens have petitioned the Governor of California for assistance. There were not arms or ammunition enough in town to equip 25 men.
Trinity Journal, Weaverville, California, March 8, 1856, page 2


    We take the following items of news from the Crescent City Herald, of the 5th inst. The paper is filled with Indian rumors, and we judge that the people up there were badly frightened about the Indians, and no doubt there exists good cause for apprehension.
    MOVEMENT AGAINST THE HOSTILE INDIANS.--A company of some twenty-five or thirty men has been raised by Capt. George H. Abbott, for the purpose of proceeding up the coast accompanying a train of some thirty mules to the settlement at the mouth of Rogue River. This expedition started yesterday, and while it will bring relief to that settlement, [it] will also more fully ascertain the whereabouts of the Indians, and if possible, administer a lesson to the Chetco and Pistol River Indians, whose interference with those in our immediate neighborhood has always been a cause of alarm and inquietude.
    It would not be at all surprising to find that Enos and his band, after the massacre above the mouth of Rogue River, had withdrawn to some of the valleys in the interior, and that the late disturbances on the coast just above us were caused entirely by the Chetcos and Pistol River Indians, to whose pranks we are probably thus indebted for all the excitement on Friday.
    It is now nearly a month since we have had any advices from San Francisco. The news by the steamer now due is looked for with much interest, and it is hoped that something effective will be done to terminate these Indian difficulties in Southern Oregon, either by the removal of the Indians or sending a force against them sufficiently large to hem them in on all sides, and make them stand and fight.
San Joaquin Republican, Stockton, California, March 15, 1856, page 2


    INTERESTING FROM THE UMPQUA AND COOS BAY.--The Alta learns from Capt. Bunker, lately arrived from Umpqua, in the brig Fawn, that two days before he sailed reliable news was received from Coos Bay that the Indians, who have lately been under charge of the local agent there, have suddenly left the Bay and fled to the mountains of the interior. The inhabitants have erected a blockhouse or fort for the protection of the women and children, as the above unexpected move on the part of the savages was regarded as a sure evidence of hostility. All the miners had ceased work and armed themselves against the expected attack. The Indians of the Umpqua and Coos Bay have been supported by the Department for the last three months, under the subagent, Mr. E. P. Drew. The whole number of the Umpqua and Coos Indians amounts to about three hundred. They are mostly well armed, and probably excited to hostilities by the recent successes of the Indians along the coast and at Rogue River. Efforts are being made in this city to procure arms for tho defense of the Umpqua and Coos districts. With such a state of affairs it is evident that the national military authorities should adopt some immediate measures towards dispatching troops to the above named localities.
San Joaquin Republican, Stockton, California, March 19, 1856, page 2


    LATER FROM COOS BAY, OREGON.--The steamer Newport, which left Coos Bay on Saturday last, arrived at San Francisco on Tuesday forenoon. The Alta is indebted to Mr. John Farwell for the following items:
    The Indian difficulties in Southern Oregon continue unabated. The only tribes who have not "dug up the hatchet" are those of the Umpqua and Coos Bay. On the 5th inst. an Indian known as "Pete" was taken among the Coos Bay tribe, and after having been tried, according to the mountain code, for inciting these Indians to take up arms, was hung at Empire City. He was a notorious fellow, and had been looked after for some time. It was known that large numbers of Indians were in the hills, and were supposed to be waiting for an opportunity to strike a successful blow. A company of volunteers had been raised at Coos Bay, and had left for Coquille River in search of some Indians in that quarter who had committed depredations, and after an absence of something more than a week, returned and reported that a man by the name of Lount and another had been among them, and succeeded in prevailing upon the Indians to accompany him to the government Reserve at Port Orford. The distance was but thirty miles, and up to the time of the steamer's sailing, nothing had been heard from him. It was feared that he had been killed, and the Indians had again returned to the mountains. The regular troops occupied the mouth of Rogue River ; a few were left at Port Orford. The territorial government of Oregon was exerting itself in endeavoring to suppress further calamities. Along the coast, mining and all business had ceased. The settlers had left their farms, and gone into the towns.
Sacramento Daily Union, May 2, 1856, page 1

	Capt. Ben Wright,	Capt. John Poland,
	H. Braun,	Mr. Smith,
	E. W. Howe,	Mr. Seaman,
	Mr. Wagoner,	Mr. Warner,
	Barney Castle,	Jno. Geisel & 5 [sic] children,
	Geo. McCluskey,	P. McCullough,
	Henry Lawrence,	S. Heidrick,
	W. R. Tullus,	Jos. Leroc & 2 sons,
	Mr. Bossman,	Mr. Wilson.

    Besides three or four, names unknown, Mrs. Geisel and daughter are prisoners and in the hands of the Mikonotunne band of Indians, about eight miles up the river. Dr. M. C. White escaped by jumping into Euchre Creek and secreting himself under a pile of driftwood, remaining there for an hour and a half and until the Indians had given up the search.
    The inhabitants at the mouth of Rogue River have all moved to the north side of the river, where formerly, under the apprehension of a sudden attack, a fort had been erected; they number about 130 men, having less than a hundred guns amongst them.
    The schooner Gold Beach left yesterday (Sunday) morning at half past five o'clock, and it is supposed that a fight commenced at daylight, as there was a party going to cross to the south side of the river, where they expected to find the whole body of Indians. At sunrise everything on the south side was in flames.
    The stores of Coburn & Warwick, F. H. Pratt and W. A. Upton were probably all destroyed.
    Mr. Pratt states that according to the census taken last spring, there are 335 warriors in the district. They were all engaged in the fight, except the Chetcos and Pistol River Indians, who number about 80. The number of Indians from above or out of the district is between 50 and 60.
    Upon the death of the Sub-Indian Agent, Capt. Ben. Wright, Mr. J. McGuire assumed the duties of Sub-Indian Agent.
    A boat was dispatched as early as Saturday evening to Port Orford to inform Maj. Reynolds, in command of that post, of the occurrences.
    As a matter of reference for those not acquainted with the localities, we give the following table of distances up the beach:

To		Winchuck Creek	15		miles
"		Chetco	4		"
"		Whaleshead	12		"
"		Pistol River	12		"
"		Mouth Rogue River (Gold Beach)	12		"
		Total	61		miles

    Common prudence will suggest to our citizens the necessity of adopting some measures to prevent the possibility of a surprise either in our immediate vicinity or in the neighboring settlements. We do not apprehend that the Indians will be able to dislodge the men at the mouth of Rogue River; still it is not to be forgotten that but for their holding out in that position the whole coast would be comparatively clear to the savages.

Port Orford, March 9, 1856.

Yours &c.,
    Clinton.

LETTER FROM PORT ORFORD.
THE INDIAN DIFFICULTIES THERE--PARTICULARS OF THE ROGUE RIVER AFFAIR--
SIX PERSONS DROWNED--SUBSEQUENT MOVEMENTS OF THE INDIANS, ETC.

Headquarters, Mouth of Rogue River
    Dist. Southn. Oregon & Northn. Cal.
        March 22nd 1856

I am sir
    Respectfully
        Your obt. servt.
            Robt. C. Buchanan
                Bvt. Lt. Col. Major 4th Inf.
                    Commdg. Dist.

* * *

* * *

    Hidden away in the numerous committee rooms in the great Capitol building are tons of documents of all descriptions representing the hopes and fears of thousands of claimants for even-handed justice or public bounty. Many of the claims are meritorious, but they slumber just as soundly as the least excusable or most dishonest demand ever made on the public purse. One of the most interesting of these petitions has just been reported from the House committee on pensions with a recommendation that the bill covering the case become a law. As a rule congressional committees are not given to sentiment, but this especial subdivision says that no case has been considered by it which appeals more strongly to the sense of justice than this one. The story as told by Representative DeLano in the report is a most thrilling one.
    Christina Geisel, now Christina Edson, emigrated in the early years from the Atlantic states to the shores of the Pacific, and with her husband, John Geisel, and their little family they settled upon the shores of the Pacific Ocean, near the mouth of the Rogue River, in Oregon. Their house was upon the then traveled trail leading from the coast of California into Oregon. They were comfortably fixed when they settled there at that time. John Geisel mined the fine gold dust on the ocean beach, and this, together with his stock upon the prairies and what was received by his family from the passing travelers for lodgings, constituted their means of livelihood. A friendly Indian was employed about the premises in occasional services. The village of the Indian tribe of the "Tututnis" was 8 miles distant up the Rogue River. Very little apprehension existed among the settlers as to any hostile intent on the part of the Indians.
    Ben Wright, the Indian agent in the vicinity and known in the Pacific states as a daring Indian fighter, gave positive assurances that no danger existed.
    On the night of February 22, 1856, the settlers for some miles around attended a ball at Rogue River in observance of Washington's birthday. The Indians, expecting to find the country comparatively defenseless, owing to the assemblage at the ball, concluded upon a general massacre of the whites who remained at home. Owing to the illness of one of the children none of the Geisel family attended the ball.
    About midnight Mr. Geisel was awakened by a rap upon the door and by hearing their Indian servant saying that he desired to obtain something to eat. Upon this the door was opened, and immediately several stalwart Indians rushed in and commenced their attack, with long drawn knives and tomahawks, upon Mr. Geisel.
    Mrs. Geisel, leaving her three-week-old infant in bed and though quite feeble, rushed to her husband's rescue. In the conflict she received a severe wound. Her husband was soon overcome and fell dead in her presence. She was securely bound and, with her infant and a seven-year-old daughter, was forced without. There she witnessed her three boys taken from their little beds in an adjoining room and while piteously begging for life they were, one by one, slaughtered in her presence.
    After rifling the house of all such articles as they desired they applied the torch to it, and compelled their captives to witness its destruction, with the burning of the bodies of the slain. Mr. Geisel, barefooted and clad in her thin gown and with her two children, was then marched to the camp of the Tututnis, and while en route witnessed the burning of many houses and the massacre of her neighbors. Great indignities were inflicted upon the captives by the Indians in the village of the hostiles. They were kept prisoners under strict watch for two weeks, when they were exchanged or ransomed by the white people who were forted at the mouth of the Rogue River.
    During her captivity Mrs. Geisel took careful notes and sketches of what she observed. She discovered that several allied tribes were constructing very strong fortifications, from which they proposed making raids upon all the surrounding country in California and Oregon and thus complete the destruction already begun. Mrs. Geisel discovered a concealed approach through the mountain gorges into this fortification and village by which, if it could be assailed in that direction by sufficient force, defense would be without avail. She also learned from conversations among the Indians in their own language, which she interpreted, that great preparations were in progress for a raid on the people of the town of Port Orford, 30 miles distant, where they expressed great confidence of exterminating the men and children and making captives of the women. The time was fixed for their departure and surprise. This information she disclosed to the settlers in the fort immediately upon her ransom and they sent forward to Port Orford a swift-traveling messenger to inform the people of their approaching danger. Port Orford was at once placed in a condition of defense, and when the Indians appeared before it they were repulsed and returned to their camp on Rogue River.
    Soldiers and volunteers were soon on the ground, and availing themselves of the information communicated by Mrs. Geisel they made a sudden assault upon the Indian fortifications by way of the approaches discovered by the captive woman and after a closely contested battle they completely routed and killed many of the Indian warriors. This defeat so dispirited them that they never rallied again and were afterward the most peaceable Indians on the Pacific coast. The Rogue River war, which extended over a large portion of southern Oregon, was substantially ended at this place. It is a part of the written history of the Pacific coast states and territories. "The testimony of the present judge of the county, who escaped the massacre, and who was in the fort at the time and one of those who assisted in the ransom of the captives, and also the testimony of the commander of the volunteers who dislodged the Indians from their stronghold, as well as the sworn narratives of Mrs. Geisel herself, is all before us."
Evening Star, Washington, D.C., February 27, 1890, page 7


    Henry R. K. Lackman, wearing a G.A.R. badge, pushed his way through the lines of spectators as the great military parade passed the reviewing stand at Washington Park last Friday.
    "Once I passed in a review myself," he said to the man he had displaced. "But it wasn't like this."
    "No?"
    "No, I should say not. They warn't any gold lace and flashy trinkets. It was buckskins, muskets and scalping knives, and way back in the '50s when Indians and gold were thick out in California. I served through the Rogue River War." Henry R. K. Lackman drew himself up to his full height, which at best did not obstruct the view of the men behind him.
    "Yes, sir; I served six months as a volunteer and three months in the regular army under Capt. Ben Wright. I was promised $4 a day and a land warrant, and received $66.66. It cost me half that sum, less the odd cents, to pay the lawyer who put the claim through. I belonged to Company K, 2nd Regiment Oregon Territory mounted guards, and was mustered out in a dense forest without a cent in my pocket.
    "I was born in Cincinnati sixty-three years ago and caught the gold fever when I was 24 years old. My first mining was on Dry Creek, about one hundred miles above Sutter's Fort, as it was called, and right among the Digger Indians.
    "In 1855 I went up to Gold Beach, near Port Orford, in Southern Oregon, and was mining there when hostilities broke out and we organized the volunteers for service. Old John, chief of the Tustasans, led the outbreak, which was in the fall of '55. We volunteered under Capt. Wright, a sub-agent under Indian Agent Gen. Palmer, who, I believe, still holds that position. We miners formed a company of about fifty men and marched up Rogue River to what was known as Big Bend, six miles above the mouth of the Illinois River, and built a fort. A half-breed named Enos, who up to that time had been trusted, and was one of Fremont's best-known guides, was one of a party sent back to the mouth of Rogue River for provisions. I was a member of that party and Enoch Huntley, who came from Cincinnati, was the third. We got back safely, and all were tired out. Another trip had to be made, and Huntley asked me to go with him, but I said I was too worn out; so he went alone and started back with John Clevinger. The half-breed Enos slipped out of camp that night and sold the life of Huntley for $50 and a rifle to Capt. John of the hostiles. The Indians lay in ambush near the mouth of the Illinois River and when the boys came up in the canoes shot them both. Then Enos went to the mouth of Rogue River and reported the massacre. While the people were debating as to what should be done Enos slipped out and joined the hostiles for good.
    "An express rider, Jerry McGuire, brought us the news. Then we started down to the Shasta Costa ranchos to surprise the Indians. There were thirteen of us, under Capt. Ralph Bledsoe. We made a rush, but found the huts deserted, so turned back.
    "At 2 o'clock the next morning as we were nearing the fort our two dogs came to us, shot full of arrows. Then we went on a double-quick, and reached Crawfish Creek, two miles from camp, just at daylight. On the opposite side were two Indian pickets. We killed them. The Indians had shot the upper part of the building, which was made of clapboards, full of holes. Then they tried to fire the fort by getting out of range of the portholes at the chimney and thrusting burning pitch pine knots under the roof. In the face of a fire from the bush the boys pushed the brands down and put out the blaze with a barrel of water that happened to be in the fort. At the sound of our guns the hostiles drew off. Jerry McGuire, the express rider, carried the news of the attack to Port Orford, and Lieut. Drysdale, with twenty-five regulars, came to our relief. We went into camp at Too-too-ternia, six miles from the mouth of Rogue River. While we were there an Indian went out to hunt. This was only another way to join the hostiles, and so a man named Watt was sent after him and demanded the gun. Instead the Indian shot him in the arm, was caught and turned over to the sheriff of the county. [Every other version says Buford was the one wounded.]
    "Then Gen. Palmer, the Indian agent, came to make a treaty, and, like all of Gen. Palmer's treaties, it was the signal for war. He gave each Indian a rifle and twenty rounds of ammunition. The general had with him fifteen or twenty soldiers under Lieut. Couch. To this officer the sheriff turned over the Indian that had shot Watt, and he was liberated. It was decided to send him back to his tribe, and he was put into a canoe with two soldiers and started upstream. Watt, his bunkmate, O'Brien, and another private of the name of Buford slipped up the bank a short distance. Three rifles sounded in unison and that Indian fell over into the water dead. Then, under order of Lieut. Couch, the soldiers in the boat returned the fire and the three men were killed at once. Couch was ordered back to Port Orford, where he was relieved.
    "On the night of Feb. 22, Washington's birthday, several of the boys went down to the mouth of Rogue River to a dance. Capt. Ben Wright and another officer came up and camped on an island and were murdered at 2 o'clock by Enos and Old John. No shots were fired, and we did not know anything about it until the next morning. When we sat down to eat breakfast the Indians swarmed into our tents. As I raised the tin coffee cup to my lips it was shot from my hand. Wilkinson, by my side, was shot through the face, fell over a log and crawled into the brush and escaped. Three of us got into the swamp--Schillie [Shully/Shelley], Meservey and myself. We were there six and a half days, twice a day being in water up to our boot-tops, and with nothing to eat except grass roots. The tides came up into the swamps, and it was impossible for us to lie down. Whenever an Indian showed up we took a shot at him, and so picked off a dozen or more, without once receiving a wound. Finally the Indians got tired of watching us and left the squaws on guard. On the morning of the seventh day we made a break through the squaw camp and escaped into the woods, and made our way to the fort at the mouth of the Rogue River.
    "When we got in the boys were throwing up sod fortifications, expecting an attack at any moment. We couldn't go out to fight on account of the women and children that would be left unprotected. After a ten days' watch without seeing an Indian, it was concluded to send out a party to Potato Hill, where a crop of potatoes was ready to be dug. Capt. Bledsoe took seventeen volunteers, of which I was one, and a negro named Old Ned and started for the potato patch, half a mile away. We placed sentinels along the line to watch, and Henry Bullen was half way between two briar patches. We had just begun work when we heard a rifle shot, and looking over the bank saw poor Bullen falling and 600 Indians in the path. Capt. Bledsoe seemed to lose his head, and Lieut. Walker took command. To make a feint he gave the order to go around the bank by the seashore, and a number of the boys started on the run when the counter command came. Eight of the men were out of hearing and pushed on. They were overwhelmed and were driven into the sea and drowned. Old Ned was killed. The rest of us had only about sixty savages to contend with. After we reached the fort we found that Mrs. Geisel and her two daughters, one a babe in arms, had been captured. We traded the squaw and papoose of a chief and $50 for Mrs. Geisel. This chief was Old Joshua of the Joshua tribe.
    "The siege was kept up until Capt. Tichenor, who had a schooner, got her out into the bay and worked his way down to San Francisco, where he gave the alarm--and lost his boat for sailing without orders. Eight hundred regulars were sent up at once, reaching the fort March 18, 1856. This body of men made short work of the war. Old John and son were exiled and his braves sent to a reservation. The renegade Enos was caught and hung at Port Orford. The next year another outbreak occurred and volunteers went after the warriors, found them and made a treaty the Indians never broke by sending them to the happy hunting grounds."
Chicago Record, October 26, 1892, page 4


    When the alarm was given at Gold Beach, some of the officers of Captain Poland's company were still there, and Relf Bledsoe, first lieutenant, was at once chosen to command. He concentrated the men, women, and children to the number of one hundred and thirty at the unfinished fortification known as "Miners' Fort," which they hastened to complete and to stock with the provisions at hand, and otherwise to prepare to stand a siege--for siege it was likely to be, with no force in that part of the country, either regular or volunteer, sufficiently strong to deliver them.
    Charles Foster by using great caution reached Port Orford, carrying the news of the outbreak. But Major Reynolds, in command of the post, dared not divide his handful of men, nor would the citizens of Port Orford, only about fifty in number at this time, consent to the withdrawal of this force. They, however, dispatched a whaleboat down the coast to open communication with the fort, which act of kindness only brought with it further disaster, for the boat was overturned in the surf and the six citizens in it drowned, their bodies being cut to pieces by the savages who were watching their efforts to land, and who would have butchered them had they lived to reach the shore. The men who so generously sacrificed themselves for the consolation of their fellows in misfortune were H. C. Gerow, a merchant of Port Orford, and formerly of New York state; John O'Brien, a miner; Sylvester Long, a farmer; William Thompson and Richard Gay, boatmen, and Felix McCue.
    The boat not returning, Captain William Tichenor, the founder of Port Orford, sent his schooner Nelly to bring off the people of Whaleshead, but was prevented by adverse winds from approaching the shore. Again, the schooner Gold Beach, at a later date, left Crescent City with a volunteer company, designing to attack the Indians, but they, too, were prevented from landing, and the inmates of the fort could only, with sinking hearts, witness these repeated failures.
    Arms were scarce at the fort, the Indians having captured those of the volunteers, but they kept a careful guard, and after a single attack on the twenty-fifth, the Indians seldom approached within rifle shot, although the rolling sand hills in the vicinity favored by sheltering them from observation. Under cover of darkness, milk for the children was sometimes obtained from the cows feeding near the fort. Once an attempt was made to gather potatoes from a field in daylight, but soon the men employed discovered the wary foe creeping upon them under the shelter of the sand dunes, and were forced to retreat in haste to the fort, one man being killed and four wounded before they reached cover. Whenever after this an Indian's head was discovered peering over the edge of a ridge it was shot at, and the marksmen took true aim.
    Ten, twenty, thirty days passed, during which the silence of death brooded over the country. Port Orford was the only place in Oregon to which the news of the massacre had been carried, and to send it to the governor at the capital, or to San Francisco to the military authorities, took time, when steamers made only monthly or bimonthly trips along the coast. The Indians, always well informed of the movements of the volunteers, had seized upon that period when the disbandment of companies and the slow recruiting of them rendered the state soldiery practically useless, so that even after the news of the tragedy had filtered through the Indians' lines and reached the volunteer camps, it found them unprepared to act.
    Thus time wore on while the Indians waited for famine and despair to place a hundred victims in their bloody hands.
    On the thirty-first day, ah! what sound breaks the painful silence of this tragic solitude? Fife and drum, and the tramp of many feet! To the straining eyes of the imprisoned inmates of the fort was revealed the ravishing sight of two companies of the United States troops marching up from Fort Humboldt to their relief. Instantly the Indians fled to the hills, and the people rushed out into the free air with shouts of gladness.
Frances Fuller Victor, The Early Indian Wars of Oregon, 1894, pages 380-382


    In the year 1849 Dennis Tryon, a native of Vermont, then a young man 28 years of age, crossed the plains from Iowa where he had lived for some years and reached this coast.
    Last Saturday at 1:30 o'clock p.m., having lived six years beyond the three score and ten mark, Dennis Tryon breathed his last. About the year 1852 Mr. Tryon located in Yreka, then but an outpost of civilization. The three years previous to that time he had spent in Northern Oregon, we are told. From Yreka he removed into the Rogue River country in 1854, and in 1856 with other pioneers he defended himself and his possessions against the Indians, who were then very warlike. Notwithstanding their heroic defense the settlers suffered much loss from the incursions of the red men. Mr. Tryon was among the heaviest loser. Shortly after the Indian war he removed to Del Norte, locating at Smith River, where he took up land and resided for many years, acquiring considerable wealth. For the last seven years he had made his home with sheriff Ferguson, his son-in-law, and it was there he breathed his last breath. For some time the weight of years had borne heavily upon his enfeebled frame, but not until three weeks ago Wednesday did he finally take to his bed. He was surrounded by every comfort and received the tenderest care that loving hands could give, closing a life which had borne the brunt of frontier hardships, amidst the pleasantest surroundings. Eight children--six sons and two daughters--mourn his departure.
    One daughter--Mrs. A. Johnston--is a resident of southern Humboldt, and was unable to attend the funeral. His sons George, William, John, Frank, Charles and Thomas Tryon reside in Del Norte and with their sister Mrs. Ferguson participated in the last sad rites which consigned his aged form to its well-earned rest.
    The funeral service was attended by persons from all parts of Del Norte and was held from the M.E. church in Smith River, at 2 p.m. last Sunday. A special train was insufficient to carry all who wished to attend from Crescent City, but as it was, the church at Smith River Corners could not admit half of those who came. The sermon by Rev. G. W. Phelps was laden with eloquent thought. A large choir rendered an appropriate service of song.
    At the grave the beautiful and impressive burial rites of the Masonic order of which deceased had been a member were performed, and the throng of mourning friends departed musing on the thought that even three score and ten years of life were but as a hand's breadth measured on the scale of eternity.
Del Norte Record, Crescent City, August 28, 1897, page 3


    Congressman Barham has introduced in Congress a bill to appropriate $15,000 to pay Dennis Tryon for a fort erected by him during the Rogue River Indian War and for losses suffered from the destruction of property by the savages in that war. This money if appropriated would go to the heirs of Dennis Tryon who reside in Del Norte County.
"Local News Briefly Told," Del Norte Record, Crescent City, California, December 25, 1897, page 3


    Anticipating the outbreak as the natural outgrowth of the war that had been raging for some time with the upper Rogue River Indians, the citizens had already erected a good log fort on the north side of the river about a mile and a half from its mouth. The site was admirably selected, on a level prairie upland and in gunshot of the ocean. Around the fort was a deep, wide ditch which was always full of water and over which was a drawbridge; the fort was therefore literally impregnable against an assault of savages. And now that hostilities had begun, and any moment the Indians might pour down upon the little towns in overwhelming numbers, there was a rush for boats with which to cross from the Ellensburg side, and men with families, and even without, felt thankful for the security of the little fort with only such of their effects as could be carried in their arms, and that too in a "Go as you please race."
    Fortunately, the Indians had been slow about attacking the whites at the mouth of the river which was, no doubt, occasioned by their disappointment in not having killed all the volunteers. The delay was of incalculable importance to the citizens, as it enabled them to convey plenty of provisions and clothing to the fort and to cache a great deal more. But the doomed villages, abandoned cabins and forsaken homes were burned by the Indians that evening, so that the next morning there was not a house left in all the country. And while no other section of the United States has experienced such an utter destruction of property, yet this little band of pioneers, who looked out from the fort that memorable evening upon the clouds of smoke and tongues of flame that rose from their burning homes, have never received a dollar on their spoliation claims.
    Of the volunteers who escaped, most of them reached the fort on the day of the attack. Charley Foster fled up the coast to Port Orford and very reasonably supposed himself to be the only one "left to tell the tale," while Lieut. Meservey, "Bill" Shully, and Joe Vincenne got into the thick brush west of Fleming's Slough. So certain were they that everybody else had been killed, they remained there until they were in a fair way to perish from starvation. Urged by desperation, one of them at last resolved to reconnoiter the high grounds just north of the river. He discovered the fort, over which the Stars and Stripes were proudly and defiantly floating. Overjoyed at the sight, he hastened back to his comrades and urged them to start with him to the fort. One refused to go, arguing that the fort was in the hands of the Indians who were cunning enough to use the flag as a decoy. The other, however, declared that if the American flag was flying over the fort he should go to that flag, for he could not die at a better place than under it. Two of them, therefore, started, reluctantly leaving their comrade. When in sight of the fort they were discovered by the inmates thereof to be white men, and a party set out at once to meet them. Dr. Holton was mounted and rode on ahead of the party. In riding rapidly up the ridge his hat was blown off and away, and having long hair, which was streaming in the wind and over his swarthy face, he was taken for an Indian by the two volunteers, who took to their heels as fast as their famished but desperate legs would carry them. But the brave doctor took in the situation, put spurs to his horse and actually had to capture them before he could convince them that he was a white man intent upon their preservation rather than their destruction. To run such a desperate race against oneself, and both lose and win, is an anomaly in the life of man seldom experienced. Guided by one of the volunteers, a party soon rescued the one that had been left.
    A few days after the whites had forted up, the Indians appeared in great numbers on the hills about a mile to the eastward, evidently intent upon its capture. Enos, a Canadian half-breed, who came to this coast with the Fremont party, and who was afterwards hanged on Battle Rock at Port Orford, was the actual leader of the Indians, and could be readily distinguished from the fort by the aid of spyglasses, as he rode a white horse up and down the lines of the Indians, violently haranguing them. At last he seemed to have worked them up to the storming pitch, for with wild yells and whoops they rushed down the hillsides toward the devoted fort, where all was ready to make as brave and successful a defense as possible, and where as gallant and intelligent a band of men as ever led the vanguard of civilization sternly resolved to die to the last man in defense of those heroic wives and mothers of America's last race of pioneers. It was very gladly noticed, however, that the nearer the fort the Indians approached the slower became their pace, until they at last stopped and fired at long range, whooped and danced, and vented their cowardly rage at a safe distance. The little fort looked too formidable when distance had disenchanted them, and they finally withdrew, never again to appear in force before the place.
    The fort made a wonderful impression upon their untutored minds for, they thought, if the whites could build a fort they could not take, why [did] not they build one the whites could not take? Accordingly they constructed one, fifteen miles up the river on the south bank, and called it "Skookum House."
    Some of the more daring men grew tired of the monotony of fort life [and] went out one night and stationed themselves in the brush, in easy gunshot of the mouth of the river, and picked off several Indians who were found fishing there when daylight dawned. But a few days after the Indians were more than revenged, and that too from the same ambush.
    Fifteen men went down to the river to get a lot of potatoes that had been cached about a half mile above the mouth. Upon reaching the river, they posted a sentinel on the highest ground a few rods west of where the ferry house now stands; five more were left to guard the cart, while the others started down the steep bank for the potatoes. All this time there was a lot of well-armed Indians lying in ambush within a hundred yards of them, watching their maneuvers, and waiting a favorable time to begin the carnival of death. As soon as the main party were two or three hundred yards away, they fired upon the sentinel, who was instantly slain, while the guard, perhaps cut off from joining the main party by the Indians rushing out, ran down toward the mouth of the river, and tried to reach the fort by the way of the beach. The main party, seeing the resistless attack, ran up the steep, open hillside northward, where they were soon seen from the fort, and a party of twenty-five men were sent to the rescue. Fortunately for the main party, there were two unerring marksmen in it, whose courage equaled their skill, and who picked off every Indian who dared pursue. In this party two were slightly wounded, James Hunt and the late Hon. M. B. Gregory. The relief, upon ascertaining the nature of the startling events, and reinforced, by seven of those who had escaped, rushed down to the scene of the first attack.
    But all was still; not an Indian in sight; but along the beach were the dead and mutilated bodies of the guard, all save one, who, as the Indians afterwards said, ran, dying with with wounds, into the ocean; sooner than fall into the hands of the more pitiless and merciless savages. Those killed in this unfortunate affair were, L. Oliver, John Bullem, Adolph Schmoldt, Dan Richardson, "Negro Ned," and one whose name the writer has not obtained.
    One of the saddest events of the fort life was the capsizing of a boat, manned by six men, which came down from Port Orford with supplies and ammunition. They did not dare run into the mouth of the river on account of the Indians being in possession of the south side, but attempted to run the breakers and beach their boat opposite the fort. They had almost succeeded when their boat capsized, and four of the brave fellows, after a gallant struggle to cling to the boat, were swept off, one by one, and sank to rise no more. The more fortunate were at last rescued, and resuscitated.
    Regulars soon arrived from Crescent City and Port Orford and who, aided by the volunteers, drove the Indians from the mouth of the river. The women and children were sent by schooner to Port Orford for safety, while the little fort that had protected them so well was forever abandoned.
Orvil Dodge, Pioneer History of Coos and Curry Counties, 1898, pages 75-


    Joseph H. McVay, now living at Smith River, Del Norte County, Cal., furnished the following reminiscence of his varied experiences as one of the first pioneers of the
coast. . . .
    The next year [1854] I went to Port Orford, thence to Gold Beach and continued my search for wealth with the ups and downs so common in those days. In passing along the coast one could see in every little rivulet that came gushing from the banks particles of shining gold, rolling along with the black sand, and it seemed that we had truly arrived at an Eldorado that was far superior to anything that the human family had ever discovered. Mining became the principal industry, but sad disappointments were on every hand and it seemed almost impossible to save the fine particles of gold that seemed to penetrate the sands of the beach. Some, however, were quite successful, and when the results of several days' hard toil yielded well, it would encourage others to increased exertions.
    On February 22nd, 1856, the Indians about the mouth of the Rogue River commenced a horrible massacre and killed nearly all the settlers outside of the town and I, with every other man, at once shouldered my gun. The people who escaped that terrible massacre on the 22nd built a fort near the mouth of the river on the north side of the stream and removed their families and what provisions they could get within its walls, and determined to defend their lives with every means at hand. It was only a short time before the Indians burned every habitation in the town, including stores, shops and in fact the fiery elements destroyed almost every mark of civilization that had been erected by the industrious adventurers. Shortly after the fort was occupied our provisions began to run short, and as there were a large amount of potatoes stored not far away, sixteen men were detailed to go after some of them. The Indians were in ambush and soon killed one-half of that heroic band, who were courageous enough to risk their lives to save women and children from starvation. There were at least one thousand disciplined and armed savages to contend with who had surrounded the fort, and were watching every opportunity to fire at anyone who might show any part of their person, and I believe that one hundred shots at least were fired at me during the siege. I was one of the parties who had endeavored to obtain some of the potatoes, and shot the Indian who had command of the ambushed throng of redskins and ran for my life to the fort. A few mornings later fifteen men went down nearer the mouth of the river and killed several Indians, who with canoes had some provisions. There was a small shanty near the beach, at least a half mile from the fort. The whites concluded that they would go down in force and carry the shanty to the fort, but the Indians were too numerous and the party returned bleeding and sorrowing for some unfortunate who had fallen. The Indians were very watchful over the shanty. One day some of them were seen around the little building and one slapped his backside in defiance toward the fort. One man inside had an improved rifle of long range and he concluded to try his gun and as the report was heard the Indian shot up in the air and then fell to the ground. This ended his career of bloodshed and treachery.
    After a siege of distress and and terror for several gloomy days Uncle Sam sent about thirteen hundred soldiers from down the coast to relieve us. Twelve of the people who had been in the fort went up the river to Lobster Creek in the night, and watched for the red devils. At about sunrise, two canoes were seen with fourteen Indians and their squaws, and all but one of the unfortunate band got in line of our guns, and they never molested the whites after. We then discovered that there were at least a thousand of the foe nearby, and we retreated by a circuitous route to the fort. About this time we received word that Capt. Smith was surrounded, somewhere up the river and that he needed help. We made a forced march of fifty miles. As soon as we came in sight the Indians said they did not wish to fight the black guns. On reaching Smith's camp, we found thereby three soldiers shot dead, and some were wounded. The next day the volunteers went down on the south side of the river, while Smith's regulars took the north side, and finding the main band of warriors, they attacked them and killed and drowned one hundred or more, and of course wounded a large number. The Indians sued for peace soon after, and they were marched to Port Orford by the volunteers. There was some disappointment on the part of the regulars, as they wished the honor of conquering the Indians; but it is believed that it was impossible for them to do so, without the aid of the volunteers. 
Orvil Dodge, Pioneer History of Coos and Curry Counties, 1898, pages 306-309


    There are but four survivors of those who took refuge at the fort at the mouth of Rogue River at and during the Indian war of 1855-6 now living at that place. Their names are Elisha Meservey, Judge M. Riley, Mrs. Christina Edson, who was the wife of the murdered John Geisel, and Mrs. Blake.
    It is a sad and shameful sequel for the historian to record that Charley Brown is now an inmate of a poorhouse, while many of those who were saved from a horrible death by his bravery have prospered and are amply able to provide a comfortable home for the old man, who is now in need of assistance.
Orvil Dodge, Pioneer History of Coos and Curry Counties, 1898, page 347


    [Judge Michael Riley] came to the mouth of Rogue River in the fall of '54. Securing a good claim here, he mined with good results until the fall of '55, when he went to San Francisco to meet his wife who, with their little daughter five years of age, made the trip from Geneva, Ill. via. the Isthmus [to] San Francisco. In returning with his family in January, 1856 he found that an Indian outbreak was feared. The Indians were then fighting in Rogue River Valley, and it was feared that the savages all along the coast would take up arms against the whites.
    During Mr. Riley's absence in San Francisco, the citizens at the mouth of Rogue River, at the instigation of Capt. Tichenor, who came down from Port Orford, had erected two forts or stockades on the south bank of Rogue River, near where the town of Gold Beach now stands. Just back of Gold Beach is a steep thickly wooded bluff. Within easy rifle shot of this bluff and between it and the river the two stockades were built.
    On arriving home from San Francisco in January, Mr. Riley did not like the location of the two forts built during his absence, and at once set about to secure help to erect a fort on the north side of the river. The north bank of the river consists of high rolling hills with but little underbrush and no heavy timber. Mr. Riley could find but one man who viewed the situation as he did, and that man was Dr. D. S. Holton, at present a resident of Grants Pass, Ore. Mr. Riley and Dr. Holton crossed the river and interviewed the miners on the north side of the river, and they heartily agreed with them and at once set to work to aid in the construction of a fort on that side of the river. A site was chosen on a plain about three quarters of a mile from the river and one quarter of a mile from the ocean beach. With the assistance of Dennis Train, who recently died in Del Norte County, Cal., who with his oxen hauled logs from the beach, two large log houses were built in a short time.
    On the night of February 22, 1856, nearly all of the miners, with their families, attended a dance in the town of Gold Beach. They carried their guns with them and kept them near at hand during the night. Some of the miners on the way to the dance were met by an old squaw who, weeping bitterly, told them that the Indians were going to break out that night and that they would all be killed. As this squaw had warned them several times before, and as Ben Wright, the Indian agent, repeatedly assured them that no trouble need be expected from the Indians, they paid but little heed to the wailing of the squaw.
    Four miles up the river, at what is now know as Bagnell's Ferry, was a large Indian village. These Indians belonged to a separate tribe from those already fighting in Rogue River Valley, and professed friendship to the whites and asked that the whites assist them in protecting themselves from the hostile Indians in the valley. Consequently a small company of volunteers was organized among the miners at the mouth of the river and stationed in the Indian village. Early on the morning of the 23rd and before the break of day, Michael Riley took his wife and little daughter from the dance a mile and a half along the bluff to the rude log house that served as their home, and leaving them returned to town and, in company with two men, started up the river in a small skiff to serve a subpoena on a man living near the Indian village where the volunteers were stationed. Riley was then serving as constable of Coos County. After proceeding up the river a couple of miles, rifle shots and the yells of the Indians could be distinctly heard. Riley at once concluded that the Indians had attacked the volunteers and that a general outbreak along the coast would soon follow. He at once decided to hasten back to town and warn the slumbering and unsuspecting miners and be assured that his wife and child were safe. His companions did not share his alarm and wished to continue on up the river. He therefore put them ashore and then made all possible speed down the river and arrived in town shortly after daylight, when most of the inhabitants were yet soundly sleeping. Arousing them as he passed through town by rapping on the windows and doors and warning them of approaching danger, he hastened on to the home where his wife and child lay quietly sleeping. To awaken them and apprise his wife of their immediate danger, and to hastily fill a small satchel with articles of clothing, was the work of a few minutes, and seizing his musket he hastened with them to town, where the now thoroughly aroused miners were hastening their wives and children into boats and across the river to the forts on the north side. Putting his wife and child into one of the boats, Riley returned alone to their home in the woods, where he filled a trunk with dishes and a few articles of clothing and cached it in the bushes, and lashing some bedding to his back hastened back to town and joined his family in the fort. True to the warning of the old squaw, the Indians had laid their plans well. They killed all of the volunteers stationed at the ferry, excepting five or six who saved their lives by getting into the bushes. The Indians then intended to march down the river and attack the sleeping miners. This they would have accomplished but for Riley's early morning trip up the river. Immediately upon his return with the news of the outbreak, a small company was organized and marched up the river and met the Indians and succeeded in checking their march until the remainder of the miners with their families had time to reach the fort.
    One of the five volunteers stationed at the ferry who managed to escape was Charles Foster. He had just prepared his breakfast and as he raised a tin cup of coffee to his lips a bullet struck the cup, knocking it out of his hands. Mr. Foster fell over backward as if killed and crawled into a patch of thick brush, where he lay all day, with the Indians all around him and within a few feet of him. The next night he crawled out and passed within a few feet of an Indian sitting by a small fire gnawing a bone. By traveling by night and concealing himself in the daytime in the bushes he managed to reach the fort at Port Orford, some forty miles distance, where a company' of soldiers were stationed. The four other survivors of the Bagnell Ferry massacre, who a few days later succeeded in making their way to the fort at the mouth of the river, were David Libby, E. H. Meservey, William Shelley and Joseph Vincent. Of all these five men mentioned E. H. Meservey is the only one living. He resides on Rogue River about twelve miles from the mouth. One of the first men killed was Ben Wright, the Indian agent. He and John Poland, who were in a house on the south bank of the river, opposite the ferry, were killed just before the attack was made on the volunteers.
    During the five weeks spent by the volunteers in the fort at the mouth of the river, Mr. Riley took part in many exciting incidents which space will not allow us to chronicle here. However, we cannot pass unnoticed one of the saddest scenes that occurred during those exciting days.
    Early in the spring of '52, when Mr. Riley left his quiet and happy home in Illinois to seek his fortune in the gold fields of the Pacific Coast, it was in company with Adolph Schmaldt, a young man who was his near neighbor and intimate friend. Together they braved the hardships and dangers of the dreary trip across the plains. Together they sought their fortunes in the mines and together they shared the dangers of life in the fort, until one day a party of ten men went down to a small cabin on the bank of the river with sacks to get potatoes that were stored in the cabin. Schmaldt accompanied this party and upon reaching the river they were attacked by the Indians and compelled to make a hasty retreat to the fort. Several were killed, including Schmaldt. Several days later his body was found a few hundred yards from the fort. When notified of the finding of the body of his friend, Mr. Riley with a few companions proceeded to the spot, taking with him from the fort Schmaldt's blankets in which he carefully wrapped the body while his companions hastily hollowed out a shallow grave in which the remains were buried. Upon leaving the fort Mr. Riley went at once to Port Orford, where he remained for a year. Upon returning to Rogue River his first thought was to decorate and properly care for the grave of his friend and companion, but this he was unable to do as all trace of the grave was obliterated and its location could not be found.
    At the time of the Indian outbreak there was a young educated Canadian Indian named Enos residing in Gold Beach, who professed to be true to the whites. A few days before the outbreak he started up the river in company with John Clevinger, Huntley and another man whose name is forgotten. In a day or so he returned and reported that he and his companions had been attacked by the Indians and he alone escaped. He reported that two or three miners living on Rogue River at Big Bend bad sent him for ammunition, and he was given all he could carry. He immediately left and joined the Indians, where he became chief. During the captivity of Mrs. Geisel she frequently saw Enos among the Indians and heard him giving orders. This she reported after her return to the fort. He assisted the Indians as long as they fought. Knowing that capture meant death he made his way through the mountains to an Indian reservation in Washington Territory. Here he was captured and taken to the barracks at Vancouver where Lieut. Macfeely commanded, and Sheriff Riley of Curry County was notified. Mr. Riley was appointed sheriff in 1856 by the legislature when Curry County was organized. Mr. Riley made the trip to Vancouver by steamer from Port Orford and secured Enos, who was chained hand and foot. The steamer on returning could not land at Port Orford but landed Riley and his prisoner at Crescent City. As hostile Indians were yet in the woods it was considered dangerous to attempt to make the trip over the trail from Crescent City to Port Orford so Sheriff Riley was obliged to remain with his prisoner in that town until the steamer called for them. Port Orford was then the county seat of this county. The steamer proceeded to San Francisco, from there to Portland and back, and on her way to Portland again before calling in at Crescent City. The first night that Enos was confined in the county jail someone attempted to break in the door and let him out. Every night after that Sheriff Riley occupied one of the rooms of the jail. It was considerably over a month from the time Mr. Riley left Port Orford for Vancouver until he returned with the prisoner. Mrs. Geisel, then residing at Port Orford, was the only witness against Enos, and she could not be found at the the time set for the trial, so the justice ordered Sheriff Riley to turn the prisoner loose. It was necessary to take him to the blacksmith shop to have the chains on his legs cut off. While this was being done a mob surrounded the shop, and the moment Enos stepped out he was seized and taken away. Whiskey was given him and he partly confessed to having assisted in the killing of his three companions mentioned above, on their way up the river. The next morning he was hanged on historical Battle Rock, where his body was buried.
    An American flag waved constantly over the fort. A large canvas with the word "Help" upon it was stretched between two sticks on the roof of the fort. A passing steamer saw this and reported the fact at Port Orford, where some U.S. soldiers were stationed, and also at Portland. Finally soldiers came from the north and also from the south to the relief of the fort, both companies arriving on the same day. A small schooner entered the river and took the men who had families and the women and children, while the single men went overland to Port Orford. Immediately after entering the fort the miners dug a circular ditch around the fort, leaving room for a yard inside. This ditch was about six feet deep and the earth wall around it about nine feet high. Portholes were cut in the wall. One morning the Indians collected on the hill above the fort to the number of about one thousand, and all at once made a grand rush upon the fort, yelling and shouting as they came. Some of the balls passed through the shingles on the roof. This frightened the women of the fort terribly and some of them fainted. The miners rushed to the portholes and called on the women to mold bullets. To this call only two women responded. One of these was Mrs. Riley. These heroic women molded bullets at the stove while the Indians yelled and discharged their guns at the fort time and again. No one was killed on either side during this battle as the Indians were very careful to keep out of range of the miner's bullets.
"Reminiscences from the Life of M. Riley," Orvil Dodge, ed., Pioneer History of Coos and Curry Counties, 1898, ed. of 1969, page 347


    I talked with Ben Wright, the sub-Indian agent, a few days before he was tortured to death by the Chetcos, and he declared that he was not in the least afraid of his hostile neighbors.
    "Jennie," said he, alluding to his squaw, who a day or two afterward inveigled him to his death, "Jennie will warn me against any treachery. The chief of the Willamettes has offered fifty ponies for my scalp, but I guess he'll keep them awhile yet," and he laughingly shook the long, curly, black hair, which he boasted was worn in that manner to defy the Indians.
    The very day that Wright, unknown to us, was undergoing the death tortures, Jennie came into the settlement and gathered up for removal all their portable belongings, explaining to me, when I inquired for Ben, that he had sent her for their clothing as they were going to attend a big pow-wow given by a peaceful tribe.
    Another Indian victim was old Norwegian Dan, whose cabin stood at the mouth of the river Sixes, and in which I have had many a smoke and listened to many a yarn. Dan had sailed several times around the world, and under many different flags. In proof of having figured in several naval engagements, he showed scars of cuts innumerable.
    He well deserved his reputation for being a unique character, and his eccentricities were so marked as to be chronicled in a magazine article of the period, written by a young traveler whom I met the year previous to the Indian outbreak and the old sailor's death. One writer related to me his personal knowledge of Dan with great amusement.
    The cabin of old Dan contained rawhide beds, but no luxuries, and was inconceivably dirty. But elk steaks were usually to be had there in abundance, and a brown jug made its appearance just at the desired moment, so that the cabin at the Sixes was a favorite stopping place for the male traveler.
    When the young man and his companion rode up and called out for shelter, Dan, who had retired, shouted back his usual challenge to strangers: "Are you Coos Bay people?"
    Thinking he might have a decided preference for the inhabitants of that vicinity, the young tenderfoot answered cheerfully, "Yes." But he feared his mistake when with a volley of sea-bred oaths Dan ordered them off the premises.
    Dan left his cabin at the beginning of the outbreak and went to the fort built at the mouth of Rogue River, intending to help the settlers gathered there.
    With a number of others he was outside the fort one day when their return was cut off by a large band of Indians.
    Seeing the utter hopelessness of his position, old Dan rushed into the surf. Standing waist deep, he fired his last round of ammunition, then hurled his useless rifle far out into the sea and stood with folded arms, defiantly waiting for the bullet that should send him to rest beneath the waves.
"Last Stand of Norwegian Dan," San Francisco Call, August 14, 1898, page 28  The narrator recited these stories after relating a patently untrue account of his supposed participation in the Battle Rock fight. "Norwegian Dan" may have been Dan Richardson.




    The days of chivalry and knighthood in Europe cannot furnish more interesting or romantic tales than our own western history. Into the wild mountain fastnesses of the unexplored West went brave men, whose courage was often called forth in encounters with hostile savages. The land was rich in all natural resources, in gold and silver, in agricultural and commercial possibilities, and awaited the demands of man to yield up its treasures, but its mountain heights were hard to climb, its forests difficult to penetrate, and the magnificent trees, the dense bushes or the jagged rocks often sheltered the skulking foe, who resented the encroachment of the pale faces upon these "hunting grounds." The establishment of homes in this beautiful region therefore meant sacrifices, hardships and ofttimes death, but there were some men, however, brave enough to meet the red man in his own familiar haunts and undertake the task of reclaiming the district for purposes of civilization. The rich mineral stores of this vast region were thus added to the wealth of the nation; its magnificent forests contributed to the lumber industries, and its fertile valleys added to the opportunities of the farmer and stock-raiser, and today the Northwest is one of the most productive sections of the entire country. That this is so is due to such men as Captain Relf Bledsoe, whose name is inseparably interwoven with the history of the region. No story of fiction contains more exciting chapters than may be found in his life record, but space forbids an extended account of these.
    He who was to become such an important factor in the development of the Northwest was born in Henderson County, Kentucky, on the 16th of August, 1832. His ancestors, natives of Wales, came to America at an early period in the colonial epoch and took an active part in the leading events that affected the colonies. Five of the Bledsoe brothers fought throughout the struggle for independence. A younger brother, not old enough to enter the army, was Jesse Bledsoe, father of our subject. He was born in Canewood, four miles from Frankfort, Kentucky, and married Miss Jane Baylor, daughter of George Wythe Baylor, Jr., and a granddaughter of Colonel Baylor, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence. He won his title in the war which brought to America her liberty, and was wounded in that great struggle. With the blood of Revolutionary heroes thus flowing in his veins, it is not strange that Captain Bledsoe took so prominent a part in the Indian wars of the Northwest. His father was a lawyer by profession, and in politics was first a Whig and later a Democrat. He held membership in the Christian church. In his family were twelve children, eight of whom are living.
    The Captain, the second in order of birth, spent the first seven years of his life in Kentucky, and in 1839 went with his parents to Missouri and thence to Texas, in 1845. In 1850, when eighteen years of age, he traveled through Mexico to California, reaching Los Angeles when it contained only a few adobe houses inhabited by Mexicans, or, as they called themselves, Spanish. In 1852 he went to San Francisco, and in 1854 he was elected superintendent of a mining company in Southern Oregon. On the failure of the well-known firm of Adams & Company, the company with which he was connected was also bankrupt, but soon afterward the Indian troubles of the Rogue River Valley, in Oregon, broke out and Mr. Bledsoe joined a volunteer company to aid in quelling the insurrection and defending the settlers. He became a private of Company K, Second Oregon Infantry, but soon his ability as a soldier was manifest and he was promoted sergeant, second lieutenant and first lieutenant, successively. On the death of the captain, he succeeded to that rank. He then assembled the citizens together and built a fort. On the morning of February 24, 1856. he called for twenty-two men to go with him to hold the Indians in check while the fort was being constructed. After marching some distance they were stationed behind a sharp point and awaited the arrival of the Indians, who soon came into view, five hundred strong. Captain Bledsoe had his men remain quiet until the Indians were within about fifty feet of them, when they poured a deadly fire into their ranks. After their guns were emptied, the white men used their revolvers with dreadful effect and the Indians were largely checked, many of the number having been killed. The Captain then ordered a retreat toward the fort and thus they made their way, contesting every foot of the ground until they reached the fort, at four o'clock in the afternoon. In the meantime the building was completed and the women and children were saved.
    On another occasion Captain Bledsoe, with thirty-two men, was reconnoitering, when they were almost instantly surrounded by four hundred Indians, who rose up around them out of the bushes, which were breast-high, and charged upon the white men from every direction. The Captain instantly formed his men into a hollow square, and in this way awaited the charge. They first fired their guns, then used their revolvers. The chief in command of the Indians jumped on a rock to better give the commands, when Captain Bledsoe ordered John Walker, who stood near him, to fire, and the chief was killed, which caused great disorder among his followers, thus left without a leader. The white men then formed in skirmish line and retreated. Eight of their number had been killed and five wounded. Captain Bledsoe, at another time, with twenty picked men, went up to the mouth of the river in search of the Indians. They discovered a party of about seventy-five and crawled up to the top of a bluff from where they opened fire. Only three of the Indians crossed the river alive! After this, three companies of United States regulars arrived under command of General Buchanan, and thus Captain Bledsoe was relieved of the responsibility of having entire command. Later two other companies of regulars came, and the subject of this review was allowed some respite from his arduous duties. One other incident in which he was concerned, however, is worthy of mention. Near the fort was a dry reservoir into which the Indians frequently crawled at night, firing from that vantage point upon the fort in the daytime. Their object was to pick off anyone that appeared outside the walls. One morning the Captain thought that, with a few men, he would take possession of the reservoir first, and when the Indians came give them a warm reception. He started, gun in hand. It was a double-barreled gun, one side loaded with a ball, the other with buckshot. He had made his way some distance in advance of the men, when a little shepherd dog that had followed him began to sniff and whine, which warned him that the Indians were ahead of him. Putting his gun to his shoulder, he waited until an Indian head appeared on the edge of the reservoir. He then fired, and the Indian fell, but all the other Indians rose and fired at him. Just as he fired, however, he sat down, and their bullets passed over him. He then started on a run for the fort, but in that race for life his clothes were completely riddled, although not a bullet entered his body. He was in twenty Indian battles, always in the thickest of the fight. After the war a chief told him that he had shot at him many times, hoping to kill him, but had failed, and they thought he bore a charmed life.
    On the 20th of June, 1856, he participated in the last battle of the war. He and his men were to take their places on the south side of the river and await the Indians, who were to be driven across to them. His men were behind a large log when the Indians came up to them. The Captain with his forty-five men had a desperate encounter with the savages, a hand-to-hand fight, in which one hundred and seventy-five Indians were killed. The next day the remainder of the band surrendered. After the battle. General C. C. Augur embraced the Captain with the remark: "You are the best man to fight Indians at close quarters I ever saw. I could constantly hear your voice above the din of battle clear across the river."
    Captain Bledsoe aided in moving the Indians to their reservation, and was for some time the special Indian agent at the mouth of Yaquina Bay. He was also sutler for two years, and then engaged in buying cattle, which he drove to market in Olympia. In 1861 the Oro Fino excitement brought him to Lewiston, [Idaho,] where he arrived in July, 1861. He was the first merchant at Elk City and sold the first goods there, after which he was connected with a large mercantile house in Florence. In 1862 he was elected joint councilman from Idaho and Nez Perce counties. In the fall of that year the Boise Basin was discovered, and he had command of a company of sixty-six men, who traveled across the mountains to that place. When they arrived at Squaw Creek, Lieutenant Standifer and eight men formed an advance guard ahead of the main body. They were attacked by Indians, and Captain Bledsoe then took thirty men, leaving the others with the pack train, and fought the Indians, driving them back across Little Squaw Creek and over Big Squaw Creek to what is now a part of Calvin Beard's ranch. Night ended the fight. The pack train camped on Little Meadows, and captured five squaws and some children, from which incident Squaw Creek received its name. The party afterward continued on their way to the point on the Boise River where the beautiful city of Boise now stands. At that time there was no house nearer than Auburn, Oregon. They drove the Indians from the river and went on to the Boise Basin, where they found Marion Moore and his party, who had arrived four days previously. They located claims, and Captain Bledsoe and Tom Hart washed the first pan of dirt in the vicinity of Placerville, about a half mile below the present site of the town. They secured gold to the value of twenty-five cents out of this first pan. After looking over the country in this vicinity Captain Bledsoe started for Olympia, Washington, to attend the meeting of the legislature. He framed the bill that organized Boise County, and the following year Idaho was separated from Washington. He has held various positions of honor and trust, and was a prominent candidate for governor of Idaho, President Cleveland being strongly urged to appoint him chief executive of the Territory. For the past twenty years he has been extensively engaged in quartz and placer mining, and is a thorough mining expert. His efforts in the development of the mineral resources of the state brought him a handsome competence and at the same time have contributed to the general welfare.
    On the 1st of July, 1858, near Corvallis. Oregon, was celebrated the marriage of Captain Bledsoe and Miss Helen Kinney. They have six children--three sons and three daughters: Sadie, who became the wife of L. Vineyard, died August 9, 1893, leaving two children, who are residing with their grandfather; Annie, wife of William F. Galbraith, a druggist of Boise; R. J., a farmer of Boise; Eulalie, wife of W. N. Northrop, a hardware merchant; John M., who is in the engineer corps at Honolulu; and Lloyd, at home. In politics the Captain has been a lifelong Democrat, and the official positions he has filled have been accorded him by reason of his merit and sterling worth. He has been an important factor in the military, political and industrial interests of the state, an honored pioneer who deserves the gratitude of his fellow men for what he has done for the Northwest. When the present shall have become the past, his name will be revered as one of the founders of the state of Idaho, and as one of the heroes who carried civilization into the wild districts of this great region.
An Illustrated History of the State of Idaho, Lewis Publishing Co., Chicago, 1899, pages 35-37  None of the battles and ambushes described above bear much resemblance to known events.


    GOLD BEACH, Or., Jan. 29.--The death has taken place at Port Orford of J. W. Wilkinson, who was born in Henry, Echo County, Virginia, March 1, 1822, and came to Curry County in the spring of 1854. He settled near the mouth of Rogue River. During the following year occurred the memorable war between the whites and the Rogue River Indians. Mr. Wilkinson took part in this war. When the attack was made on Ellensburg (now Gold Beach), he and the greater part of the other settlers found protection in a fort constructed for that purpose on the north side of the river. Their lives were saved, but all else was lost. Following this attack was one made on Skookum House, the fort of the Indians, situated about 15 miles up the river. This attack was one of the best planned and most successfully executed of all recorded in the struggles between the two races, and the power of the red men was completely destroyed. His later years Mr. Wilkinson has been spending quietly at Port Orford.
Oregon Statesman , February 4, 1908, page 8




    Several days passed after Foster's arrival, but nothing more was heard from Rogue River, so one Gerow, a storekeeper, in company with four or five others, whose names have been forgotten, manned a whaleboat, loaded it with provisions, guns and ammunition, and pulled out for Rogue River to assist the people there, should they find any alive. It was known that a small fort or earthwork had been partially built a short time previous about one mile north of the mouth of the river by some miners who feared an outbreak, and thither the men in a boat directed their course. The boat was spied and hailed by the people in the fort, and in an attempt to make a landing all the occupants of the boat, save one, were drowned in the surf.
    The little fort was besieged by hundreds of Indians, who kept at a safe distance, however, as the occupants had good rifles and knew how to use them. With plenty of provisions, a good log fort carefully constructed with loopholes and protected by a wide ditch on the outside, the miners had no fears of their ability to repel any assaults of the Indians. But they needed every man present, so had not tried to send for assistance. Several days passed, and as no word was received from Rogue River or the occupants of the whaleboat, W. S. Winsor and George Wasson, two miners, but experienced Indian fighters, volunteered to go to Rogue River and locate the white people, if any were alive, or learn their fate. . . .
    During the day the scouts took careful note of the country beyond and picked out their route to the fort. They believed that the fort was not closely picketed by the Indians during the night and that the quickest and perhaps the safest move on their part was to ride directly to the fort, keeping a close lookout, of course, for Indians.
    As the shades of evening fell over hill and valley the scouts saddled their horses and rode down to the little valley below, then to the trail, along which they advanced with more caution till the little fort was visible on the bluff near the ocean beach. As they were apt to encounter the Indian pickets, if any were on duty on the hillside, the scouts dismounted and, leading their horses, moved forward with caution. They frequently paused and anxiously peered into the darkness to catch the least sound of an enemy, if present, but no sound except the occasional bark of a dog in the fort broke the awful stillness. After a long halt the scouts believed that no pickets were on guard on that part of the field at least, so they tied their horses in a thicket nearby, crawled to a friendly knoll about three hundred yards from the little fort and, in a low tone at first, hailed the people in the fort. Receiving no answer, they hailed again in a louder voice, which was soon after answered by someone in the fort. After hurriedly telling the people in the fort who they were, the scouts were directed to come forward slowly. The scouts were now in extreme peril, for should there be lurking pickets in that vicinity to fire upon them, the people in the fort might think it a night attack and fire a volley in the face of the scouts. The scouts, sensible of their peril, lost no time in reaching the fort, where they were met with many guns pointed at them as they crossed the plank laid across the ditch to admit them. The scouts were greeted with many handshakes and were glad that their perilous journey was at an end. Accompanied by men from the fort, they returned and led their horses into the fort.
    The scouts found about eighty people, mustering about seventy guns. They had plenty of ammunition and provisions, were full of fight and did not appear to be greatly disturbed by their surroundings. The hostile Indians appeared upon the hillside above the fort the next day but kept at a safe distance. In about a week after the scouts reached the little fort, the siege was raised by the arrival of several companies of regular soldiers from the south. The Indians then withdrew up the river and the war was practically ended.
Jeremiah Huntley, "A Scout to Rogue River in 1856," in James Gaston, ed., Centennial History of Oregon, 1911, vol. 4, pages 1026-1028.


    At one time they were surrounded by the savages for thirty days at the mouth of Rogue River, but Mr. Jette became acquainted with the chief of the tribe and although the lives of some of his friends were taken he was saved through the entreaties of Chelsey, the daughter of the chief.
Joseph Gaston, ed., "Adolphe Jette," Centennial History of Oregon, vol. 3, 1912, page 647