A soldiers tale of the Eel River

The following print in black is from Olmanriver's research. Anything in oxblood is my comments. The Armstrong Ranch is at the location of the River Ranch, now the Bonham Ranch, or where John Niel lives, the field south of the Garberville airport. The Spouls lived at the mouth of what we now call "Spowel Creek", named after them.

Report of Lieut. Daniel D. Lynn, Sixth U. S. Infantry.

FORT HUMBOLDT, CAL., March 28, 1861.
SIR: In conformity with recent verbal instructions from you I have the honor to enter upon a somewhat detailed account of the campaign from the South Fork of Eel River to its termination. But, firstly, permit me to state that I do not consider it out of place to submit a statement of the origin of the South Fork difficulties.

Origin of the South Fork difficulties.-The only reliable and satisfactory account of these difficulties and their origin that I have yet received is one from Mr. Bruce, a partner of Mr. Armstrong, of the Valley of the South Fork. I regret that I am unable to give all the particulars. It appears that Mr. Ross, widely known as a trafficker with Indians, with one or more persons, was going up the South Fork between Mr. Armstrong’s place and that of Messrs. Sproul, and overtaken by a small party of rather bold Indians. The Indians did not run, but slowly proceeded toward the white men, but Mr. Ross, either fearing that the Indians were dangerous, or thinking they were “too fast,” fired on and, I think, killed one. The Sproul boys appearing and taking sides with Ross and escorting him to their home, led the Indians to think that the Sprouls shared Mr. Ross’ sentiments, and were their enemies-a very rational conclusion, especially when it is added that the boys then sheltered and protected him, so that the Indians, keenly alive to their wrongs, at the first good opportunity thought they would clean out the boys. The boys had killed a bear and were dressing it when the Indians attacked them. The sequel you know; both boys were nearly killed. The white man’s side of the story I presume you have heard.
George WOODS was drowned in South Eel River, near Armstrong's ranch. He jumped from a raft on which he was crossing and attempted to swim to shore. 2/1/61.
Stories that I have heard leads me to believe that these two incidents were related. Woods heard the gunfire and commotion and tried to cross the river to help the Spouls, he didn't make it and drowned. The river was quite high and swift due to a spring rain.
Yet, notwithstanding this sad warning, those Sprouls shelter, at every visit, even now, the same desperate character who was their guest on that sad occasion. If the past has anything to do with the future they ought to take warning and eschew all such dangerous hospitality. In addition to the above, white men at the South Fork had whipped and raped Indian women. For further particulars I can be consulted personally at any moment.
More Bullshistory: The Indians that attacked the Sprouls had also stolen a bell and a pipe from them. A group of people, I don't know if they were citizens or Army, hunted the Indians down and killed them. The story goes that they could hear the Indians playing with the bell and were able to follow them from the noise. They followed them to Bell Springs where the bell playing Indian was killed and that is why it is called Bell Spings. They followed the trail of the other Indian that had the pipe, and he was killed at Pipe Creek and that is were the creeks name came from.
I apologise for the lack of accuracy, but these were the stories that I was told.

{p.9}
Are the buckskin gentry pioneers of civilization?-Let us see. As this appears to be the proper connection in which to answer this question, I will discuss it now. The term “buckskin gentry” is a more comprehensive one than buckskin hunters, and embraces all who hunt for a living-all who have a few ideas about agriculture and grazing and herding of stock, but who hunt at intervals; all who are brought into contact with Indians, to the extent of employing and forcibly obtaining Indian servants, and cohabiting with squaws, and all who, leading the life of an Indian, wander from place to place with no definite object. Such a life it will readily be seen, on the slightest reflection or by the slightest experience, is anything but refining. At the South Fork the same Jones who shot Mr. Wright, in partnership with Mr. McFarland cultivated some ground and raised a piece of corn, but went away and did not gather it that season. A pair of oxen ate some of it, but that same miserable buckskin clan that I found at the South Fork on my arrival appeared at the time in question, saying that they were out of everything and on the point of starvation. The settlers proper very hospitably shared with them, but they were not satisfied. They called a council of war, but instead of counseling the destruction of the Digger race, as they had uniformly done hitherto, they resolved on the destruction of the corn-field. The entire field was taken. Neither McFarland nor Jones were there to defend their claims or even to enter a protest, yet these same buckskin outlaws were those to tell me that the Indians had taken McFarland’s corn-field, and that the white men had given no provocation. The above question is accordingly answered in the negative.

Scouting.-The scouting party sent out to Spruce Grove under charge of Corporal Heron from the camp at the South Fork remained there till the last practicable moment, and only joined the command after the latter had passed Spruce Grove on its way to Larrabee’s.
(according to Ben: Spruce Grove Station was located just south of the Alderpoint Rd. junction on the Harris Rd. It was the only store/stage station in this area. Garberville did not exist as a store or town.)
The corporal’s party succeeded in capturing an Indian, but by the prisoner’s general conduct I was fully convinced that he did not belong to the hostile tribe at the South Fork, and on his rendering valuable services at Main Eel River I released him. Corporal Heron was quite confident of success at Spruce Grove had time permitted him to make use of the prisoner’s services in finding rancherias. At Larrabee’s the scouting was resumed. Determined to strike the Indians a blow if they could be found, I sent out three parties the same day in as many different directions. One started out in the direction of Van Dusen’s Creek, proceeding down it; another started out to the left of the trail with orders to proceed to strike a point low down on the Van Dusen and go up it till its intersection with the trail. The third, composed of sixteen men under Corporal Heron, had three days’ rations. It relieved the camp of all its disposable men. This party struck across toward the Van Dusen, but high up, and proceeded over in the direction of Mad River, with orders to go wherever success was probable and to join the command at Iaqua Ranch. This vast field had been crossed by a parcel of hunters, now resident at the Thousand Acre Field, a few days before. It was this which prevented success. Corporal Heron reported on his return that there were no very recent Indian signs and that there was not an Indian in twenty miles of Iaqua Ranch. From Iaqua Ranch three scouting parties were sent out. One, under Sergeant Wiedemer, proceeded to Yager Creek Settlement to scout the South and Middle Yager Valleys, and the Red Woods near by. This party espied four Indians, one squaw and three bucks, gathering clover apparently, but they were too distant to be fired on. The party approached nearer, but {p.10} the Indians had already taken warning. Another party under Simon Daysey proceeded down the North Yager and into the Red Woods in that quarter. The third, largest, fourteen men strong, and most important, under Corporal Heron, with five days’ rations, crossed Mad River from Iaqua Ranch and proceeded up that river while Indian signs rendered success probable and then struck across toward Pilot Creek in the direction of Hay Fork Valley. They did not reach Pilot Creek, but turned to the left and northward, scoured a wide field, and returned by descending Mad River. They were gone five days and a half. The time allotted was so limited that scouting had to be done as the command moved from point to point or not at all. From the camp near Kneeland’s Prairie but one party was sent out. This was under charge of Sergeant Wiedemer. The sergeant on his return reported no Indians and no traces of any. The day after Corporal Heron’s party united with the main command at Kneeland’s Prairie it stormed and continued up to the 27th, two days after the command reached the garrison, so that all further scouting after his return to that point was at an end.

I will now proceed to advert to a few incidents of campaigning, quite noticeable on our return, before passing to the contrast to which your instructions invite me.

Game.-Between Spruce Grove and Wilburn’s place, on Eel River, and especially between main Eel River and Larrabee’s Creek, game, particularly deer, is quite plenty, owing mainly to the fact, I suppose, that buckskin hunters, killing deer in contravention of the game laws and for their skins, have not yet, to any great extent, infested that region. Coyotes are quite plenty in the mountains to the south of Larrabee’s Valley.

Friendly Indians.-A party of these, and belonging to it the prisoner mentioned above, was seen at main Eel River. Their tokens of friendship, and not fleeing from us at our approach, as the guilty most always do, convinced me that they had no hand in the South Fork depredations, and I gave orders not to fire on them. A party of squaws and children was seen gathering clover on the side of a lofty spur to the left of the trail between Eel River and Larrabee’s Creek. Only one ran away. Quite a number first and last were seen whose abode was with white men and their services at their control.

Larrabee’s Valley.-( The Larrabee Valley is one of the prettiest alpine valleys that one will ever see. They say it is an old lake bottom and water is found just under the ground)

This is nothing but a basin in the mountains. In corroboration of this, limbs are found on the ground in the valley, having been broken off by the snow from the trees growing there. Another reason is the slight difference of level between the basin and adjoining mountains. In the summer time the basin is, I expect, a very pleasant locality. Its high level would indicate it cool and refreshing. Scenery on every side picturesque. Respecting its agricultural qualities, it is, I should think, quite fertile and admirably adapted for the cultivation of oats. Here in this apparently lovely valley lived a man about whose qualities I feel myself impelled to speak. I visited the premises on the morning after arriving in the valley. In this one exceptional instance I found truth had been told. I was very much surprised, because I had hitherto found it much rarer than gold. I found everything just as chronicled in the Humboldt Times. I had no conversation with Mr. Larrabee. I do not know that I ever saw the man. I heard no man speak in his favor, or even intimate one redeeming trait in his character. The universal cry was against him. At the Thousand Acre Field and Iaqua Ranch even the woman who was shot and burned to death was condemned for living with such a man. Of most enormities of which he stands accused you are aware. An accomplice and actor {p.11} in the massacre at Indian Island and South Beach; the murderer of Yo-keel-labah; recently engaged in killing unoffending Indians, his party, according to their own story, having killed eighteen at one time (eight bucks and ten squaws and children), and now at work imbruing his hands in the blood of slaughtered innocence, I do not think Mr. Larrabee can be too emphatically condemned. He certainly richly merited his recent losses. (Larrabee was one of the few that admited being involved in the Indian (Gunther) Island Massacre. I think that most of the other people involved were probably too ashamed, or afraid of reprisal, to admit their involvement. It would be my guess that they never even told their wives or family, and their horrible secret died with them.)

Summer and winter campaigning-the contrast.-The surface of the campaigning country is very uneven and exceedingly irregular-here somewhat gradual, there suddenly precipitous; here mountainous, there a deep, impassable gulch; here a branch, there a deep, windy, untraversed chasm or cañon. In the Bald Mountain region lofty peaks, rising much above the ordinary Bald Mountain height, are seen at convenient intervals for watch-towers. At the approach of an enemy Indian spies on these lofty summits, with commendable vigilance and admirable keenness of vision, give the alarm and flee, so that by the time you are looking for them they are lost to view and, perhaps, many miles away. On the western side of the Bald Hills lies a very dense forest, impenetrable in many places, and extending to the Pacific Ocean, familiarly known as the Red Woods, though this appellation has a more limited significance with those who most frequently use it. (I didn't follow this hidden reference. Does anyone know what he means?) To the east lies a wide expanse, alternately diversified with dense side-hill forests and bald ridges, stretching for miles away till lost in the dizziness of distance. To the south the Bald Hills terminate in two principal ranges of mountains, covered in the winter season with snow. Northward they sink away into the great Red Wood forest. With this brief survey before us, it will readily be seen how difficult it must be to campaign in such a country successfully or otherwise. The remarks thus far touching campaigning are alike applicable to summer and winter. But, then, is there no difference? Let us see. In the summer the days being much longer and sun rising much earlier, a much earlier start, and consequently a munch (much?)earlier camp, may be had by both men and train. Another very material consideration is the much greater certainty of progress in going from point to point. Watercourses low, and many perhaps dried up; little or no snow on the mountains to prevent progress. In the summer time there is usually but little rain to make it muddy and disagreeable. Nature herself in the springtime and summer, clad in the freshness of perennial verdure, wears a most pleasing aspect-a hope-inspiring sight and a solace to man desponding success; but in winter how different the scene, how striking the contrast. In the more elevated regions the impress of death is frequently visible. The little life stirring, all exotic, foreign to the soil that principally, if not entirely, nourishes its existence. Rivers high and swollen, snow on the mountains, melting, together with rain falling, making it muddy, slippery, cold, and disagreeable; piercing winds from long and deep cañons, driving a cold rain with them, only to chill you through, all combine to make one dislike the sport altogether. Winter is the season of storms. When they do come they usually last some time. (What an apt and picturesque discription of the place that we live. He even picked up on our two seasons; Dust and Mud.)

Defense of officers in the field.-I embrace this opportunity to express my perfect willingness and desire to defend my brother officers and companions in arms right straight through against the taunts, sneers, and slurs of hewgagism, whose principal business is iniquity, and whose loftiest ammunition calumniation; against the floating rottenness of filthy tatters; against the surplus filth and scum of outraged society; against the fleeting and shadowy fun of wholesale lying and cracking jokes at the expense of innocence. ( I've often said that very same thing! Do you think that he might be Alexander Haig's Grandfather?)

{p.12}
Personal.-Touching the matter of contrasting campaigning in summer and winter, I have been fully alive, and have felt myself unequal to the magnitude of the task. For any further explanations you may desire I can be consulted personally at any time in your convenience.

I have the honor to remain, with many assurances, your friend,

D. D. LYNN,
Second Lieutenant, Sixth Infantry.