Part Three of a Series--Buffalo Hump and the Great Linnville Raid.

Plum Creek Comanche Spoilers by Howard Terpning shows warriors after the Linnville raid.

 

 

      Considering the year—1840—and the Puritan ethics of America and Texas at that time, it is not a mystery that Pochanaquarhip, which means “an erection that won’t go down,” was mis-translated by the press.  After all, many women could read, and some of them would surely read about that Comanche’s peculiar condition.  In the eyes of the men who reported the news, it was better that some things not be shared with women-folk, especially vulgar stories about an Indian chief.  So far as anyone knew, no white man suffered from such an affliction, and how it would be looked upon among the female population was a cause for concern.  What if women liked the idea?  A savage, walking around with a petrified member, was just better not talked about in mixed company.  

     The media, not much changed in almost 180 years, decided to protect the public.  They chose to ignore the facts, ignore the Comanche language, and ignore the perpetual woody.  For noble reasons based upon protection of its readers, the press called the chief “Buffalo Hump.”

     Buffalo Hump was described by a German scientist, Ferdinand Roemer, in 1847 as follows:  “The pure unadulterated picture of a North American Indian, who, unlike the rest of his tribe, scorned every form of European dress.  His body naked, a buffalo robe around his loins, brass rings on his arms, a string of beads around his neck, and with his long, coarse black hair hanging down, he sat there with the serious facial expression of a North American Indian which seems to be apathetic to the European.  He attracted our special attention because he had distinguished himself through great daring and bravery in expeditions against the Texas frontier which he had engaged in times past.”

     The description of a Comanche War Chief is likely to be more nearly accurate when it comes from a disinterested third party, such as a European scientist.  It was difficult for a Texan to be objective when describing a cruel and vicious enemy.  Dr. Roemer noted that Buffalo Hump shunned all type of European dress.  This must have included belts and suspenders, which were unnecessary for him.  To protect his loins from exposure, Pochanaquarhip had something to hang that buffalo robe on when he walked around.  As the German scientist inferred, the only thing that hung down was the chief’s coarse black hair and a string of beads around his neck.

     Beginning immediately after the Council House Fight, Buffalo Hump travelled among the Comanche tribes, telling of the murder of their brothers during council under the flag of truce, and asking the tribes to join him in a quest for revenge.  Being well-respected and eloquent, he had no trouble getting volunteers and, by midsummer, was ready to move against the hated Anglos.

     In early August, over 500 mounted warriors, accompanied by at least that many squaws and children, moved out of the Llano Estacado and followed the Guadalupe River Valley from the vicinity of present-day Kerrville into the heart of the Republic of Texas. Pochanaquarhip brought squaws and young people to do the work—a Comanche brave could not be expected to gather firewood, set up camp, or cook meals. 

     The Indians purposely avoided Waterloo (Austin) and San Antonio.  It was foolish to attack cities that had army garrisons and newly formed Texas Ranger Companies for protection.  Buffalo Hump wanted to strike at the soft underbelly of the Republic.  His scouts had been busy for weeks, gathering information and choosing routes.  He eased his warriors around Gonzales and moved toward Victoria.

     Moving over a thousand Indians through 1840 Texas without being discovered was not possible.  A troop of fifteen Rangers struck the trail of the Comanche and followed, but there were too many Indians to attack.  The Rangers stayed close and sent out scouts to warn the citizens and gather help. The warnings didn’t get to Victoria in time.

     On August 6, 1840, the citizens of Victoria were surprised when they looked across Spring Creek and 600 mounted Comanche warriors stared back at them.  The Comanche, having already killed several slaves and farmers working in the nearby fields, charged into town.  Townspeople barricaded themselves inside their homes and fired at the Indians from upstairs windows.  Buffalo Hump’s braves bolted back and forth in the streets, setting fires and killing anyone they caught outside.  Never willing to attack a fortified position, the Comanche soon tired of the sport and withdrew, taking 1,500 horses with them.

     After noon on August 7, the Comanche gathered their spoils and headed toward Linnville, at that time the second largest port in Texas.  They contented themselves by killing a few isolated farm workers and some freight haulers, then spent the night camped on what is now called Placedo Creek, about twelve miles from Linnville. Early on August 8, they went into town.

     Buffalo Hump’s scouts had done a good job.  The town of Linnville was the main port where goods from New Orleans and points east were off-loaded to be freighted overland to San Antonio.  At the time of the raid, over $300,000.00 worth of merchandise, bound for markets in San Antonio and Austin, was stored in the warehouses of Linnville.  The people of Linnville heard that the Indians were coming, but refused to believe it.  Even when Comanche appeared on the outskirts of town, they were thought to be Mexican horse traders.

     Comanche surrounded the town and began to kill people and plunder warehouses.  The local citizens fled to the sea, and stayed out of range on small boats while they watched their homes burn.  Indians raided the storage buildings, delighted with their discoveries.  Squaws and children squealed with pleasure as they gathered goods and tied them on pack mules.  A storehouse of dry goods bound for a San Antonio merchant was discovered and emptied, along with a safe full of silver bullion.  Braves in top hats, carrying parasols, smoking cigars and drinking whiskey, laughed and played like school boys as they rode up and down the streets dragging feather mattresses and bolts of brightly colored cloth behind their ponies.

     All the pack mules in town were loaded with merchandise, all the horses and mules were gathered into one herd, and all other livestock was penned and slaughtered.  When the braves emptied a warehouse, they torched it.  The residents of Linnville watched impotently as their city was systematically sacked and burned. 

     When the Indians crossed the bayou to camp for the night, nothing of value remained.  Fields around town appeared to be covered with new fallen snow, but it was white feathers from mattresses found in the warehouses, slit open, and dragged for sport. Townspeople returned to shore after the Indians left.  During the next few months, the weary citizens relocated to Port Lavaca, three-and-a-half miles south, and Linnville ceased to exist.

     Buffalo Hump and his braves moved out, slowed by 3,000 horses and dozens of unmanageable pack mules loaded with plunder. Texas Rangers gathered, followed, and waited for an opportunity to attack. 

To be continued…..

Part Two of a Series--Hugh McLeod, Pochanaquarhip, and Matilda Lockhart

 

The Council House is behind the wall, to the left of the church.  The San Antonio City Hall occupies this space today.

 In March of 1840, President Mirabeau Lamar sent his new Inspector General of the Texas Army, twenty-six-year-old Lt. Col. Hugh McLeod, to San Antonio.  McLeod was part of a three-man team sent to negotiate the terms of a peace treaty and the return of hostages with the Comanche Nation.  Lamar knew McLeod was not the shiniest penny in the bank, but felt the impatient young colonel was bright enough to make a reasonable deal with a bunch of hungry Indians.  He also knew that if the talks stalled, the impetuous McLeod was likely to fight, which was not, in Lamar’s opinion, all bad.

     On the morning of March 19, 1840, sixty-five Comanche, including twelve chiefs, arrived dressed in their finest ceremonial regalia.  The chiefs were accompanied for this festive occasion by their squaws and children.  The meeting was held in the council house adjacent to the jail where present-day Market Street and Delarosa meet the Main Plaza in downtown San Antonio.  The twelve chiefs sat on the floor, as was their custom, and the Texans sat in chairs on an elevated platform facing and looking down on the Indians, a not surprising white man tactic.  The other Comanche, mostly women and children, remained outside, in back of the building.  Two companies of Texas infantry assembled in front of the building to provide “security.”

     The Comanche brought only one white hostage, sixteen-year-old Matilda Lockhart, and several Mexican children of little interest to the Texans.  Miss Lockhart informed the group that she had seen fifteen captives in the main Indian camp, and she believed the Indians would bring them in, one at a time, after the ransom for her was paid.  From her observations, she thought the Indians wanted to establish a high value for the hostages before they released any of them.

     When asked about hostages, Chief Muguara, spokesman for the Comanche, said that he was sure they would all be released, but only after a large ransom was paid for each.  When he finished, he asked, “How do you like that answer?”

     Whether Muguara was being sarcastic or was seriously seeking an opinion, the Texans did not like that answer.  They were furious.  The Comanche had reneged on their promise to free the captives.  Lamar, always expecting treachery from the Indians, had prepared for such an eventuality.  If the Indians failed to produce the captives, the negotiating team had been instructed to imprison the chiefs and hold them to trade for the hostages.  The interpreter was instructed to inform the chiefs that they were under arrest.

     Outside, one of the rifle companies moved around the building to watch the Comanche at the back of the structure.  The other group crowded around the open doors and windows of the council house, to hear the exchanges as they grew more heated.  The glare of the bright sunshine made it difficult to see into the dark interior of the building.

     The translator refused to tell the Indians they were under arrest, knowing there would be a violent reaction.  Lt. Col. Fisher, head of the Texas council team, ordered him to translate the message.  The nervous interpreter edged toward the door, delivered the message, and lunged outside as the Comanche leapt to their feet, slashing with razor-sharp knives at everyone within reach, and pushing for the door.  One of the officers may have given the order, it may have been pre-arranged, or the soldiers may have acted spontaneously, but in any case, the riflemen at the doors and windows fired point blank into the building, hoping to hit Indians.

     The braves, squaws and children outside, hearing the commotion, began to shoot arrows at everyone on the street, while the Texan soldiers began to fire at the Indians.  According to the soldiers, they aimed for the braves and did not shoot at women and children.

     The “battle” lasted only a few minutes.   Lt. Col. McLeod’s official report, issued the next day, accounted for the sixty-five Indians as follows: Thirty-five dead—thirty adult males, including all twelve of the chiefs, three women and two children.  Twenty-seven women and children and two old men were captured and held at Mission San Jose.  One renegade Mexican who came in with the Comanche, slipped away in the confusion.

      The Texans lost seven dead and ten wounded.  Of the seventeen Texas casualties, perhaps a few were actually harmed by Indians.  Most were killed or wounded by friendly fire.

     The Texans, once again demonstrating their ignorance of the Comanche, decided to release one of the women hostages, give her a good horse and provisions, and send her to the Llano Estacado with an ultimatum for the tribe.  The Texans would release the remaining women and children and two old men when the Comanche brought in the fifteen hostages Matilda Lockhart had seen.  A two-week truce would be allowed to give the tribes time to deliver the hostages.

     The Comanche were mourning the loss of the twelve chiefs and other members of their tribe when the squaw delivered the message from the Texans.  Immediately, they began to torture the remaining captives in some of the cruelest, slowest, and most painful methods ever devised.  Matilda Lockhart’s six-year-old sister was reportedly roasted alive over an open fire.  All the hostages were dead within a short time.  Of the original fifteen, three hostages had been adopted by Comanche families and were not harmed as they were considered members of the tribe.  The Comanche made no distinction between native-born and adopted members of the tribe—all were considered Comanche and treated equally.

     Hugh McLeod and Lt. Col. Fisher made their way back to the primitive new capital at Austin to report to President Lamar.  The citizens of San Antonio worried about Comanche retaliation, but within a few weeks, things returned to normal.

     In most descriptions of this event, Matilda Lockhart, who had spent eighteen months in captivity, is said to have been horribly disfigured from abuse by her captors.  Her slender young body was scarred from months of torture with hot coals, rawhide whips, and knives.  Beatings with heavy clubs left evidence of broken bones.  Supposedly, her nose was entirely gone, burned off with hot coals, which left a grotesque hole in the center of her face.  Her appearance reportedly so enraged the Texans that they could not help but take revenge on the twelve chiefs.

     Matilda is mentioned in Lt. Col. McLeod’s report of the incident, written the day after the battle.  McLeod acknowledged her obvious intelligence, but said nothing about any sign of abuse.  It was common knowledge that she had been repeatedly raped, as were all female captives, but no contemporary report says anything about scars, burns, or other evidence of torture.  The newspaper reporters described everything about the “battle” in great detail, but no mention was made of a sixteen-year-old girl with a missing nose. Matilda’s sister-in-law, in a letter to her mother, reported on Matilda’s condition, but mentioned no disfigurement.

     The first mention of abuse occurred more than fifty years later.  In 1890, Mary Maverick wrote that Matilda had been abused, was terribly scarred, and her nose was badly burned.  Texas writers and the press quickly jumped on the story and expanded it.  At the time, Texas’ image was suffering at the hands of the Victorian press, both on the East Coast and abroad.  A tortured, abused, and disfigured sixteen-year-old girl may have helped give the Texans an excuse for their brutal treatment of the Comanche.

     Out on the Llano Estacado, Chief Pochanaquarhip, known to the Anglos as Buffalo Hump, was planning reprisal.  The sacred council laws had been violated.  The hated whites had murdered chiefs under a flag of truce.  Pochanaquarhip was arroused.   He was not one to go soft when faced with adversity.  He quietly planned and gathered braves, supplies, and horses for his revenge.  The Texans were well advised to worry—Pochanaquarhip in the Penataka dialect means “ an erection that won’t go down.”  Buffalo Hump was destined to become a legend in his own time.

     Stay tuned…..We're gonna have some fun with this....

Number One of a series on three great Texans---Hugh McLeod, Mirabeau B. Lamar and Chief Pochanaquarhip, better known as Buffalo Hump.

Depiction by Donald M. Yena ot the Battle of the Neches, where Chief Bowl was killed.

     Hugh McLeod led a charmed life.  He grew up in Georgia and graduated from West Point at age twenty-one in 1835.  He struggled a bit academically, but he was a polished public speaker, amiable, jolly, and well-liked, and no one mentioned that he was last in his class at the Military Academy.  After the red-headed and freckled McLeod delivered a fiery and persuasive speech at a Texas rally, Johanna Troutman chose him to carry her Lone Star flag to Texas with the Georgia volunteers.

     Because he was so enamored with the Texas cause and the outlook for a career in the U.S. Army appeared bleak, the stocky young officer decided to resign his commission as a second lieutenant and cast his lot with the Georgia boys going to Texas.  His resignation paperwork was delayed, so he entrusted the Troutman flag to Col. William Wood, and reported to Fort Jessup, Louisiana, for mustering out.  That paperwork snafu saved his life.  The entire Georgia battalion, including Col. Wood, was marched out and shot at Goliad, after surrendering with another Georgia boy, the former slave trader and inept commander, Col. James Fannin.

     Following his release from the U. S. Army, McLeod hurried to join Houston’s forces at San Jacinto, but arrived after the battle and proceeded to Galveston.   There he joined his boyhood idol, Mirabeau Lamar, and the interim governor of Texas, David Burnet.  Lamar, Secretary of War in the temporary government, found a place in the Texas army for young McLeod.  Eight days after the Battle of San Jacinto, the twenty-two year-old second lieutenant, whose only military experience involved almost flunking out at West Point and serving about six months in a peacetime army, was appointed a major and assigned to the command staff of the Texas Army.

     McLeod looked on Lamar with blind hero worship, and Lamar, flattered, looked out for the young man.  When Lamar became president of the Republic in December of 1838, the twenty-four year-old McLeod was Adjutant General of the Texas Army.  Lamar’s attitude toward Native Americans was diametrically opposed to that of Sam Houston, and the new president immediately set about to remove all Indians from the republic.  McLeod helped evict the peaceful Caddos and Kickapoos, and Lamar sent him to meet with the Cherokees in 1839. 

     Lamar decided to reclaim the land Houston had promised to deed the Cherokees for their help in the Texas Revolution.  In July of 1839, he sent McLeod and others to council with the Indians, who were peacefully farming their land in east Texas, north of Nacogdoches.  The interested “others” included Lamar’s vice president, David Burnet.  That same land had been ceded to him by a Mexican Land Grant, he sold it to an eastern syndicate, Houston gave it to the Cherokees, and Burnet saw an opportunity to get it back.  

Cherokee Chief "The Bowl"--Houston's friend.   After The Bowl was killed, Hugh McLeod presented Sam Houston with the old chief's distintive hat as a form of ridicule--Houston was considered an "Indian Lover."

 

     After three days of peaceful talks, the Texans lost patience and attacked.  The two-day Battle of the Neches resulted in the death of Houston’s old friend, Chief “Bowl.”  Hugh McLeod was slightly wounded in the battle and the Cherokee were driven across the Red River into what was then Arkansas Territory.

     President Lamar, pleased that the “Cherokee Problem” was resolved, turned his attention to the “Comanche Problem,” a much more complicated and dangerous situation.  Raiding parties of Comanche swooped in from the Llano Estacado, tortured, raped, and killed settlers, kidnapped children, burned settlements, and stole horses with impunity.  After the raids, the Comanche disappeared back into the trackless high plains, where no white man would go.

     An opportunity to resolve the problem presented itself in January of 1840, when a band of  Comanche sent delegates to San Antonio to try and arrange peace with the whites.  After long years of war, an especially hard winter, and a deadly epidemic of smallpox, this small group felt that peace might be a better course of action.  They arranged for a council to be held in March.

     The leaders of the Republic of Texas did not understand the Comanche.  The Comanche Nation existed as a group of individual tribes, living, hunting, raiding, moving, and dying on a piecemeal basis, with no central control or government.  The nation was made up of at least twelve distinct tribes, broken into as many as thirty-five separate bands.   Each band chose its own leaders, made its own rules, lived where it wished, and did as it pleased.  They warred with everyone except other Comanche.  Sam Houston may have understood all this, but his advice was not welcome in Lamar’s administration.  Because of their many differences, the two leaders could not stand each other.

      Some eight or ten bands of Comanche were involved in the peace initiative, but dozens of bands refused to hold council with the dishonest Anglos.  Council was a sacred thing to the Comanche and not to be entered into lightly.  Delegates from the starving groups truthfully told the powers in San Antonio that all the prisoners they held would be released, borders would be established and honored, and none of their band would break the truce.  They did not, and could not, speak for the other tribes, but the elated Texans thought this meant the entire Comanche Nation would lay down its arms, release hostages, and go back to peaceful existence out on the high plains, away from settled areas.  The Texans believed President Lamar’s “show no mercy” policy with the Indians was working. 

Mirabeau B. Lamar, the second President of the Republic of Texas and lifelong enemy of Sam Houston.

     Two prominent chiefs of the Comanche, Peta Nocona of the Noconas and Buffalo Hump of the Penatakas, refused to council with the whites and refused to release any hostages. Peta Nocona married a captive, Cynthia Ann Parker.   They may have been married at that time—she would have been fourteen and had been with his tribe for over four years.  Their son, Quanah Parker, born over five years later, became one of the most famous chiefs of the Comanche.  Buffalo Hump was especially vocal in his opposition to the meeting, and predicted dire consequences.  Both these respected chiefs were well acquainted with the treachery of the whites, and felt it was foolhardy to attempt any dealings with them.

     To be continued…..


      (My friend, Jimmy Wallace, asked that I do something about Buffalo Hump.  Jimmy is a serious student of Texas History and a full time resident of San Antonio, where so much of it happened.  I do not, at this time, know how many episodes this series will be, but all of them are dedicated to Jimmy Wallace.)